Episode 1/Script
(Intro) Bronagh Lynch: Are you off your head completely? The Irish don't binge drink? Patrick Kennedy: I am telling you, it is an English thing. The Irish don't drink to get drunk. Niamh Rafferty: I totally agree with you, Packy, because - Oh, God, I'm going to vomit. Bronagh: You were saying? Packy: Look, when the English drink, it's organised, it's regimented. Conor Lynch: Yeah! And it's also fucking organised. Packy: Yeah. Conor: And regimented. Packy: Exactly. They have an objective - to get wrecked. They achieve that objective, job done. Irish drinking is more of an art form. We don't just walk into a pub sober and get on it. Conor: That's Barbaric. Packy: We warm up. We drink before we're out, while we're out and when we get home. For us, it's about longevity. Conor:'Do you know what it's about? Longevity. '''Packy:'We keep going. So no, we don't drink until we're drunk. We drink until we're sober. And that's the difference, Bronagh. The English charge and the Irish float. '''Bronagh: Float, do we? Oh, that's handy. 'Cos Conor's just pissed himself. Packy: Ah, Jesus, Conor! (Scene 1) (Radio): It's a rare sunny day here in Belfast, and here's Neil Diamond with Cracklin' Rosie. Bronagh: What are you doing? Da: Dropping you off at the airport. Bronagh: This isn't the airport. Conor: We're here, Bronagh! We're here! Bronagh: No, we're not, thicko! Conor: I'll get us a trolley. Bronagh: Aye, you do that. Conor: Okay. Da: Well, be careful, weans. Behave yourself, now. Bronagh: Da, this isn't the airport. What's going on? Da: There's nothing going on. Bronagh: Oh, I'm fairly sure there's something going on. Ma: Everything OK, love? Da: She knows about the whole this-not-being-the-airport thing. Ma: Well, isn't that just brilliant?! Da: I didn't tell her, love. I swear I didn't. Bronagh: I can hear you. Da: Look, Bronagh, that airport car park started charging. It's extortionate. Ma: They're robbing bastards, so they are. Da: And we're not paying it. It's a matter of principle. Isn't it, love? Ma: It is, love. Conor: There's no trolleys left. Bronagh: You can't just leave us here. It's the middle of nowhere. Da: No, it's not. Ma: You're a three minute walk away. Bronagh: Three minutes? Really? Ma: Minutes, miles something like that. Bronagh: I am not walking three fucking miles, Ma! Ma: You'll watch your mouth. Conor:'''A bit of exercise will do us good, Bronagh. '''Ma: That's right, son. Da: Listen to your brother, love. Bronagh: This is madness. Just drive us to the airport, I'll pay for the car park. Da: But that takes us a bit out of our way, is the thing. Bronagh: What? Ma: We want to go to IKEA. Da: We've our eye on a chopping board. Bronagh: Ma, Da, you cannot do this. You just can't! Da: Fine. Ma: Go, Chris! Go, go, go! Come on! Conor: They're some craic, aren't they? (Scene 2) Tyson: God, I missed you. You're so fucking amazing. Niamh: Yeah, I know. Tyson: I thought about you all the time when I was inside. Did you think about me? Niamh: Not really. Tyson: Too painful? Niamh: Yeah, maybe. I have to go. Tyson: You don't have to go. Niamh: I know, but it just sounds better than "I want to go. Tyson: Will I see you later? Niamh: I might be heading out. I could come meet you. They're taking off the tag today. What?! They're taking away your ankle bracelet? No, you see, I enjoy the ankle bracelet. The ankle bracelet means that I can come here and get the ride but not have to run into you when I'm out pulling other fellas. You crack me up. Still, it was so good to spend a bit of time with the old family though, wasn't it? There's things I'd rather have been doing. Like stabbing myself repeatedly in the face. Good morning. No. Lovely, and where are you flying to today? London, thank fuck. Lovely. And can I just have your wee passports? I only have a regular sized passport, so Lovely. And can you just pop your wee bag on the scale for me there, please. Oh, I'm afraid you're a wee bit over the weight restriction, there. You're going to have a wee additional charge. I'm not sure I trust your definition of "wee". How much? Â£60. Sixty quid? Are you fucking demented? Come on now, Bronagh. I will sort this. Nah, I can't sort it. You really are such a ball root. Look, I don't have the money. OK? But even if I did, I would rather bite off my own left tit than hand it over to you. Look, I'm really sorry. You're not sorry. I am sorry. I don't think you're sorry. She does sound sorry, Bronagh. Shut up. I'm sorry, but if you don't pay the fee, then I'm afraid your bag won't be travelling with you today. All right. Fine. My bag won't be travelling with me today? Well, that's absolutely fucking fine. Tell me this, have you started weighing the actual passengers yet? No, of course not. Good. Conor, layer the fuck up. I need to run into Tesco's. No bother. Packy, how many times a day would you shite? What? Would you shite once a day? Would you shite twice a day? I think I'm shiteing a lot, lately. Right. But it's not diarrhoea. No, my stuff's firm. You could grab a hold of it, like. Do you think it's something I'm eating? I think it's something I'd rather not talk about with a hangover, Niamh. Or ever. Patrick? Ryan? Jesus! Long time. How the hell are you, man? Christ, it's been ages. Oh, this is my friend Niamh Nice to meet you. Listen, Ryan, how many times? Aye, not now, Niamh. So what are you up to? You living here now, then, or No, staying with a friend - just over for a bit of an operation. Right. Nothing serious I hope? It's probably cos he's missing a hand. Look. Yeah, I still only have the one hand you see, Packy. Ah, so you do. I met a fella once who only had the one eye, Thomas something. Do you know him? No. No, I don't. So what kind of operation are you? Oh, I'm having a bebionic prosthetic fitted. I decided to go private in the end. I'd been on that NHS waiting list for five years. Jesus, tell me about it. to get a wisdom tooth out! That's desperate. Oh, I'd better run. But it was great to So great. And we should Absolutely. Did I just compare him losing a hand to me getting a fucking tooth out? You did, aye. God, you talk to someone like that and it really makes you think, doesn't it? About the glove thing? I'm sorry? Yeah. Like, does he buy them in pairs and throw one away or are there places that sell singles? No! I mean, you see someone with real problems and you realise how lucky you are. We should be out there seizing the day. I mean, we're young, we're healthy. We shouldn't be pissing away our lives like this. Do you know what I'm saying? Completely. So, Tyson says he can get us smack. What? Smack. Do you fancy it? No, I do not fancy it. We don't have to pay for it or anything. Niamh, we are not doing smack. Well, what am I supposed to tell Tyson? Tell him to stick his heroin up his hole. Like I'm going to say that! That's why he got banged up in the first place. I'm not sure Tyson's the man for you. Hmm, because of the Protestant thing? No, it's not so much the Protestant thing. It's more the drug smuggling, grievous bodily harm, jail sentence thing that bothers me. Doesn't it bother you? Mmm the Protestant thing bothers me more. I see. How fucking much? Aye, well you can ride my leg, you robbing bastard. Are you wearing a frock? It's Bronagh's. OK. How is the old country? Fuck away off. Grand. So, what happened here? Oh, this I got attacked last night. Jesus, mate! By who? This drunk jockey just came out of nowhere and started battering me with a bicycle pump. Bronagh punched you. Yep. You clapped when the plane landed again, didn't you? Yep. We should be out there, seizing the day. You know, we're young, we're healthy, we have both our hands Seriously, will you shut up about your hando friend, nobody cares about the hando friend. He's not my hando friend. He's without a hand. He's my no-hando friend. Look, it's quiz night in the pub tonight. I'm going to see if we can give the pot to Ryan. What do you think? Ach, Packy, like I give a flying fuck. What are we doing? What are we up to? What's going on? Take that off. You're just raging cos it looks better on me. I hope your next shite's a hedgehog, Conor. Guess who I bumped into earlier. Ryan. Ryan? Ryan - he worked in the garage shop with me, back home. Ryan. Ryan? Ryan! You remember Ryan. Hmm Ryan? For God's sake, Ryan! He had a sister called Sinead. Ryan! Ryan? It's not ringing a bell, now. Ryan! He lived in that big house beside the park. Skinny fella, dark hair. Ryan! Jesus! Would Ryan have any other distinguishing features that might jog his memory? Like is he missing a limb? Not a limb, a hand. A fucking hand! Oh! Ryan. Don't do that, mate. Here, do you think that he still blames you for that? Why would he blame Packy? It was his fault. Conor, shut up. Did you cut that fella's hand off, Packy? No! Jesus, look, the reason Ryan is the way he is I mean, the reason he Can't clap? . . is because one night, the shop we worked in got robbed and poor Ryan got shot in the hand. While he was covering your shift. Yeah, while he was covering my shift. That doesn't make it my fault, Conor. You dirty, shrapnel-dodging bastard. That's shocking, Packy. You think giving him a few quid from your spasticated pub quiz is going to make up for having him shot? I didn't have him shot! He took a bullet that was meant for you. Fine. Well, you can all help me make it up to him at the quiz tonight. We can't. We have plans. You're not doing smack. Let me make this very clear - nobody will be doing any smack. OK? Oh, Jesus. We're not going to that retarded quiz. It's for a good cause. You're not going to guilt us into it. We don't owe the fella a hand. That quiz is nothing but a twat magnet and there's absolutely no way You can win a three litre bottle of vodka. A three litre bottle of vodka? What time does it start? For Christ's sake - Tyson. He's getting rid of his ankle bracelet you know? I mean the cheek of him! I'm so fucking snapping. He's not coming to the quiz, is he? What is your problem with Tyson? It's not so much that I have a problem with Oh, is it because he thinks you're a cunt? What? He thinks I'm a cunt? Why would you say that? Because he called you a cunt. Don't listen to him, Packy, he didn't call you a cunt. He would never call you a cunt. Good, thank Christ. Oh, no, he actually might have done. No, yeah he did. He called you a cunt. You didn't tell me! No-one wants to hear that they're a cunt, Packy. Fuck. Testing one, two. Yeah, OK. Lovely stuff. Right, I'll run through the rules now, in just a second. And if you've forgotten a pen, you can purchase one from me for the princely sum of 60p. Princely sum? Fuck off and die. I love that they gave Packy a high chair. Isn't it great that he has a high chair, Bronagh. Now, that's for the picture round. You have to guess who they are. Well, I don't know about anyone else but I am buzzing! I need your Â£2. 50. What? That's the entry fee. Per team? Per person. Fuck me, how much does a plastic hand cost? So, when are we getting the vodka? You have to win first. Of course we're going to win. You're in charge. I'm not fixing the quiz, Bronagh. I beg your pardon? I'm not helping you cheat. I think I know the answer to this one. Look. That's Miss O'Kane, isn't it? Miss O'Kane? Our fourth form Geography teacher? Yeah. Aye, why not? Stick it down. Cheers. Why are you still wearing that? The zip's stuck. I can't get it off. Well, just rip it. Bronagh says if I rip the dress, she'll rip me a new hole. So you're just planning on keeping it on, are you? For life? Aye. Ryan! Jesus, Packy, stop rubbing it in. This is so good of you, Packy. Not at all. All right, Conor. It's been ages. Is that a frock? Yeah. French Connection. So, Packy tells me they're giving you a robot's hand. I don't think I used the word robot. That's class! It's actually a very frustrating, complicated procedure. Can you get more fingers? I'm sorry? Can you ask them to throw you in a couple of extra fingers? Or No, it'll just be the standard amount, finger-wise. That's a shame. They've missed a trick, there. Right, em Why don't we get you settled at your table and, you know, away from him. So, Ryan, this is Bronagh. Bronagh! Christ, I didn't know you'd be here. Have we met? You don't remember? You'd think I would. Jackie Donnelly's Halloween party. You were George Best, I was Captain Hook? That was you? Oh, Christ. Captain Hook, that's a good one. What made you think of that? Tyson, mate. Good to see you. Just about to start Don't touch me. So, should be a good night. I don't know if Niamh's mentioned it but I'm trying to raise a bit of money for a friend of mine who You had shot. Yeah, she said. I didn't have him shot. You calling Niamh a liar? No. No, definitely not doing that. That that that'd be mental. Is Conor wearing a dress? Don't talk to me It suits him. Yeah. Oh, you came then. Course I came. I'm looking forward to this, I'm really good at quizzes. History's my favourite - I like the Nazis. Sure, isn't that great. And finally, your team name should be written on the top of your answer sheets besides where it says team name. Jesus Christ, this is like a slow death. Tyson, this is Ryan. Ryan only has the one hand. Show him, Ryan. Go on. Yeah, Ryan, don't keep it a secret. Show him your missing hand. I can't show him my missing hand. It's, you know, missing. Convenient. Yeah, cos Packy went and had you shot, I hear. What? No, no! There was a robbery and What an absolute cunt. No, it wasn't anything to do with Packy. What happened with I mean, you have to be a special kind of cunt to have someone shot, don't you? Absolutely. Yes. The first thing you should do, when they fit your fake one, is have a good old go on yourself. I'm sorry? It'll probably feel like someone else is whacking your bar. Jesus, Niamh, seriously. Can we not talk about his cock? When you were shot, did it hurt much? Well yeah, it did. It was a bullet through my hand. Interesting. And did the hand come clean off, there and then? Was it just, like, lying on the floor, looking at you? Actually, do you mind if we don't talk about this? Sometimes it's still hard. I try not to think about it but sometimes it's like I'm back there and I'm staring straight down the barrel of that thing again. And I feel dizzy, and disorientated. I feel like I might Fascinating. I'll get us another round in, will I? When did dickhead get shot in the hand? Why? He's not a dickhead. Why? I'll tell you why? I think that bastard had the cheek to ride me with one hand. You rode Ryan? What's going on here? Bronagh rode Ryan. Jesus, the fella's been here five minutes. It was years ago, cock swab. Oh, right. And what? I can't remember how many hands he had at the time. How can you not remember? That's happened to me before. He was dressed up as Captain Hook. Crafty, sly, deformed little fuck. Jesus Christ, Bronagh, come on! That's out of order. He's out of order. He led me to believe he might have had two hands. It's fraud, Packy. I don't think it's fraud. Well, it's not right. We all tell white lies when we're trying to get the buck. This isn't a little white lie. This is a missing fucking hand! I'm going to confront him. How are you going to confront him? How is that conversation going to go? "Stop disguising your stump and riding people. " You absolutely cannot say that. That is a sentence that nobody should ever say. Ever. I'm saying it! These people with one hand think they can just get away with everything. Don't make a scene. I'm trying to do a nice thing. Don't ruin it. Please, for me. Why the fuck would I do anything for you? Because I'm your friend. Oh, catch yourself on. Because I'll fix the quiz and make sure you win the vodka. Good man, yourself. Question three, who is the Greek god of love? Can you hear that? Hmm, that's a tough one. Escargot That was a bad joke, that was terrible. Eleven inches? But I will accept clogs. Isn't this great? Question 40 - who wrote Jane Eyre? You lot need to up your game. I'm answering all the questions here. That's cos they've been about English things. Exactly, you have an advantage. If they were Irish questions, we'd wipe the floor with you, Tyson. Ulysses is a novel by which Irish writer? This is a barrel of balls. I'll just Google it. It's James Joyce. I'm going to double check. No offence but you've only got the one hand. You can't just Google the answer. I can. The reception's dead good in here. No, I mean it's cheating. We can't cheat. Why? Well, it's not very honest now, is it? Oh, and honesty's important to you, is it, Ryan? Yeah, it is. Oh, really? Yeah. Look, just put the phone down, Niamh. Please. No. Look, it doesn't matter. We're still going to win it anyway. Brilliant. The queue in the ladies is absolutely ridiculous. You're wearing a dress. You're not actually a woman, you fucktard. What do you mean, "we're still going to win"? Packy's going to fix it. What? But that's against the rules! Remind me, Tyson, what was it they locked you up for again? Was it excessive rule abiding? Bronagh, he has a point. It's not very fair. You don't want to be starting on me about what's fair, Nelson. I'm not having any part of this. Come on. Are you talking to me? Let's just get out of here, yeah? But it's three litres of vodka. Three. What's more important, Niamh, me or a three litre bottle of vodka? And question ten was of course Right Here, Right Now by Fatboy Slim, AKA Mr Norman Cook. Listen, I just broke up with Tyson. Good. But the thing is, I sort of might have blamed you. You might have what, now? I said you told me to sack him, cos he's a protestant. What? But I didn't say that! Right. Well, that's not what he thinks, is the thing. Niamh, tell him I didn't say that. Ach, I'm not going near him again, Packy. He bores the tits off me. He's going to actually kill me. He did say that a fair few times. Brilliant. Thank you. No problem. All right, Packy? How's it going? Just heading out a window there, are you? Help me with this. Hold on. What are you doing? Is that Tyson's bag? What are you doing with Tyson's bag?! I'm not looking for smack. That's just definitely one thing I'm not doing. Oh, sweet and gentle Jesus Christ. I'm just I'm having a wee bit of a rummage. Stop it. Get over here. Help me! There's nothing here. Good. Now, could you please Well, nothing except for the gun. What? Holy Fuck! I want a word with you. You shouldn't be doing this. It's our vodka. We won it fair and square. The quiz isn't even over yet. Where the fuck is it? Why don't we take three one litre bottles? That's the same. It's not the same, Niamh. It is not the same at all. This is wrong. You know what else is wrong, Ryan? Shoving a bit of your anatomy up a girl without telling her that another bit of your anatomy is missing. What? You rode me at that party! You think we had sex? I woke up beside you. I was keeping an eye on you. You were a mess. I found you in a cupboard, trying to eat your own shoe. I don't believe you. Come off it, Bronagh. You were dressed up as Georgie Best. And besides, I had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who now happens to be my wife. Ach, balls! You're not even wearing a ring. I HAVE NO FUCKING HAND! Aye, I suppose. Fair enough. He's got a gun! Oh, my God. What's going on here now, lads? Everybody just It's OK. Just stay calm. Oh, Christ. No, this isn't happening. Oh, Christ. Is it a robbery, Packy? Is that it? Of course it's not a robbery! Right. It's just you've got a gun in your hand. It's his gun! - Yeah, and I want it back. - Oh, please. Could somebody? I I can't breathe. Just give the man his gun, Packy. What? So he can fucking shoot me with it? Look, it's his gun. What he decides to do with it is his business. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe! Seriously, Ryan, you're making an absolute show of yourself. Oh, Jesus That fella really needs to wise up. Niamh, call an ambulance! Now! Now! But I've hardly any credit. It's all right, it's free. Grand. It's definitely your fault this time. Yeah. Yeah, cheers mate. How's Ryan? They had to sedate him. He started having pretty bad flashbacks. Happy days. I don't think I'll go to your pub quiz again. I didn't enjoy it. Did you? I've had more enjoyable smear tests. It's like an exam in a pub. Why would you want to take an exam in a pub? The English buzz off quizzes. Why though, Bronagh? Don't know. I think they just love being in teams. You know quiz teams, darts teams, rowing fucking rowing! They're not going anywhere - just rowing for the craic. Me, Niamh and Packy went rowing. No, we didn't. When did we go rowing? At Steven Coyle's wedding. Remember? Everyone sat on the dance floor and we all just started rowing. Are you talking about Rock The Boat? I do love a wee bit of Rock The Boat. Aye, Rock The Boat's not bad. But it's no Macarena. I'm not familiar with that piece, Packy. Aye, you are. Surely! The Macarena. You know this one. Tyson was right - you are a cunt.